The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1887-12-08

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! the chateau to the woods. From my
window, would notice the sentimen-
/ tai lad, stepping gravely along, his
| hands behind his back, his eyes cast
| down, now and then stopping to look
| up as If he saw and understood, and
| felt things that were beyond his years.
! Often, after dinner, on moonlight
| nights, he would say to me: "Come,
| cousin, let Us go out to muse" And
| then we would start out together
through the park. He would stop alb
| ruptly in front of the glades where
| foated that white vapor, that light
| wadding with which the moon pads
| the opening between the trees; then he
would say to me, as he pressed my
hand: See that-see. But you do
| not understand me; | know you don't.
If you did, you would be happy. One
must love to understand" l would
laugh and kiss the child that was so
much attached to me.
Often, also, after dinner, he would
sit on my mothers knees. "Now,
aunty," would he say, "tell US some
| love stories" And mother, for fun,
would relate to him all the legends of
| his family, all the passionate adven-
| lures of his forefathers, and of these
| there was not a few-tnOusands and
| thousands of them were spoken of,
| true as well as false. 1t was the repu-
! tation of these men that destroyed
| them. Their minds would get worked
| up, and then they gloried in keeping
| up the family fame.
! The little fellow would become ami
| +,l +hnra +on1ar tnrri II la
| narratives, and at times, he would
| clap his hands as he would repeat over
and over: Il too, | know how to love,
| and better than any of them"
And then he began courting me in a
timid and tender manner that made
| everybody laugh, SO odd did it seem.
| Every morning received bunch of
| flowers that he had gathered for me,
and every night, before going up to
his room, he would kiss my hand and
murmur: Il love you"
1t was wrong, very wrong, and still
weep over my folly. All my life have
| done penance on account of it, and /
have remained an old maid, or rather
| [ have lived as a widowed -betrothed,
| his widow. l would amuse myself
with his childish affection; | encour-
aged him; | was cOquettish and be-
witching, just as l might have been
with a man. | made the child dote
upon me. 1t was fun for me and an
amusing pastime for his mother and
| for mine! He was twelve years old!
| just think. who would ever have i'm
! agined that this atoms love was seri-
Gus? | would kiss him whenever he
! L I 7 I L.
| tender notes which our mothers would
read, and he would answer me with
| letters full of passion, which ] still
preserve. Believing himself man he
! supposed that our love was kept secret.
| We had all lost sight of the fact that
| he was q de Santeze!
Things went on in this way for a
! year or so. One evening, in the park,
he fell at my feet, and kissing the hem
OF my dress, he cried out passionately:
i love you, love you, love you to
the death! If you ever deceive me,
! YOU understand what | am saying, if
| ever you forsake me for another, l
shall do rs did my father" And he
| added in a deep voice that sent chill
through me: You know what he didw
Then, as | stood mOtionless, dumb
| founded, he rose and standing on tip
| toe so as to reach my ear, he whisper
| ed my name, "Genevievew in so sweet,
| so pretty, so tender tone that could
not help trembling all over.
| stammered: LET us return homer
| He said nothing more, but followed
| me in silence; just as we were about to
| ascend the front-door steps, however,
| he stopped me and said: Remember
| that if you forsake me shall kill my
! self"
Then, but only then, realized that
| | had gone too far, and, thenceforth, |
| became more reserved with him. One
| day, as he reproached me for having
changed toward him, replied: "You
are too big to jest with now, and not
yet old enough for serious love. shall
! wait till you are"
/ thought that this would end it all.
In autumn he was sent to boarding
| school. When he returned the follow
| ing summer | was engaged. He un-
derstood Immediately how matters
stood, and for eight days went about
with so thoughtful mien that l be-
came alarmed.
The ninth day as | left my bed in the
morning, noticed small folded pa
per that had been slipped under my
door. Picking it up and opening it 1
read: You have forsaken me; you
know what | told you. You have con-
| demned me to death As | do not wish
to be found by any one but you, 60 in
to the park, to the spot where l told
you, last year, that loved you, and
| look up"
l felt that l was going crazy. 1
dressed myself in all haste; and ran so
fast to the designated spot that | was
out of breath when reached it. His
little school-cap lay on the ground in
the mud. 1t had been raining all
night. 1 looked up. and perceived
something swinging about among the
leaves, for it was windy, very windy,
| that morning.
| don't know what happened after
| that. | must have screamed and
| tainted dead away afterward, for when
| | came to my senses | found myself in
bed, with Gny mother at my side.
| thought that | had dreamed all this
| that had had horrid nightmare.
| ! stammered: "Where, where is Con
TRAMP" No one answered. Twas true,
! them
did not dare to 90 to look at him;
| but begged for a lock of his hair.
| This-this-is it.
And with look of poignant despair
the old lady held out her trembling
hand.
She blew her nose several times,
dried her eyes and continued: Il
broke off my marriage-without say
ing why.-And II have ever re-
+ mained-the--tae widow of that child
thirteen years old" Then. dropping
her head, she sobbed and wept bitter
! ~ foT long while.
As we went up to our rooms to rest, a
burly hunter, whose peace of mind her
narrative seemed to have unsettled,
whispered to his neighbor:
Isn't it unfortunate that, a person
should be SO confounded sentiment
t9l a. tha IT, Tran eInfed for tho Moan